Door to a Dream
by spooky the cat
Summary: Why in the name of hell does it have to be THIS dorky human that comes to my aid, like some fucking white knight from those fairytales? And yet, of all people it was him, and I'm both happy and exuberantly miserable because whether he likes it or not, he's being dragged into this: and it isn't going to be pretty. AU. Demon Karkat: he has a tail!
1. Psychosis

**Title: ** Door to a Dream

**Pairing: **John Egbert / Karkat Vantas

**Rating: **NC-17 for drugs, using the word 'fuck' too much in a single sentence, and if you all beg me enough, possibly some citrus stuff, hu-hu-hu. Contains fluff and angst.

**Summary: **Why in the name of hell does it have to be THIS dorky human that comes to my aid, like some fucking white knight from those fairytales? And yet, of all people it was him, and I'm both happy and exuberantly miserable because whether he likes it or not, he's being dragged into this: and it isn't going to be pretty. AU. Demon Karkat: he has a tail!

* * *

1: Be the drugged up freak.

Okay, in **no way **am I a '_freak'_. I just so happened to be a demon, is all. My name is Karkat Vantas and I'm a low blooded demon, and for some god forsaken reason I was caught by fucking humans. How in the fuck were they even able to do that? All I know is that now, they're more than likely going to do irrelevant and very fucked up, psychotic tests on me like I'm some sort of animal or shiny new toy. And just because I have gray skin, fangs, horns, and a tail, they think they're fucking justified to poke and prod me to write down senseless crap about whatever they think I am.

Well, I guess in a way this is my endless psychosis. A utopia so close but so unbearably far. The smoky room's scent makes my nose wrinkle up in displeasure, the strong smell forcing tears. Whispers seem to echo through my mind as hazy visions glaze over my eyes. I don't want to be here. Any place but here. The restraints holding me to my place are digging into my skin awkwardly, and all I want to do is cry and hide in some dark, safe hole, huddled in blankets.

One of the men ties off my right arm. I don't want this, but the world shakes and I cannot seem to find my voice. The one that had been so responsible for most of the trouble I had gotten myself into when I was a small 'child', if you will. The man taps a needle with his index and all I can do is stare, wide eyed and frightened like some sort of bristling kitten left in a dark ally alone in the midst of the night, dumped there by its owners.

The man prods a little around for something. A vein? But the very thought sends shivers down my spine. My pounding heart almost thumps a hole through my chest as the man lowers the needle point to the nook of my elbow. My eyes train on the thumb, pushing in whatever injection the white coats have for me this time. This isn't fucking legal, this _can't_ be fucking legal. The serum feels like fire as it enters my veins, setting aflame the pit of my stomach and resting an aching pain in my temples. My brow twitchs involuntarily.

My eyes roll back in my head as the burning sensation, the pain, every motion in the room, becomes too much. I want so badly to pass out, and yet, I can't. I fucking can't because of what they just did, those damn white coats using me like a fucking lab rat. Tears pool over in my eyes, hugging trails down the sides of my face. Mumbles leave my lips in shaky sounds that feel foreign as I try to open my eyes again, but they only shut tighter. _Please, please, please. _This begging sounds horrid, rough, voice cracking. And then I realize that it's mine, that aching, pained voice. I sound fucking wretched.

My fingers dig the chair arms tighter on their undersides. Whatever the fuck it is they just injected into my arm it stings like hellfire. My arm begins to feel cold, like dead weight. It's still tied off. I begin to fidget as much as I can in the seat as I try to notify the male white coat. The feeling is fucking awful and I want to vomit, but there is nothing to puke up in the first place, there hasn't been in the past few days of their fucking torture. There is a clicking of a pen; he must have been noting my reaction for some sick, twisted, and fucked up reason. Whatever it is they're doing, it feels like they're just screwing with me to see me squirm.

I feel the man's finger prod my vein once more only to find yet another fine needle tip being pushed into it, a cooler liquid releasing into my body. My struggles grow weaker almost immediately. A sedative, perhaps? Well, fuck you too. He unties my arm alas, his movements swift and deliberate. My eyes are able to open just barely as the second serum flows through my body, only half lidded as they now feel oddly heavy. Another white coat comes over to help me into a wheelchair and the original male white coat wheels me through a door, down several hallways, flickering lights, strange and tall corridors.

We end up in some room full of mirrors. I cough, now finding my voice once again, my mind still groggy. I silently rejoice. For some reason, when I glance lazily up, there is someone else: another man, clad in shades and a black suit sitting in front of me casually. I let out a small growl. This must be some fucking human interrogation. "What do you want?" I hiss almost silently.

The man sits forward, resting his arms on his knees and sighs in a very meticulous way as he pulls off his black jacket, tossing it somewhere else in the room, pushing up the cuffs of his shirt ever so neatly. "Well, I have a few questions to ask, just to_ confirm _some of our suspicions," he says in an odd accent. I narrow my eyes at the choice of words. I don't like questions.

"First off, I think we best introduce ourselves. You can call me Agent Noir," he says as he waits expectantly for my returned gesture. I stare at him through narrowed eyes, not moving a muscle and he simply taps his finger tips together awkwardly, receiving the message that blatantly and yet silently screamed, 'fuck you'.

"Alright then," he begins, becoming more serious, "the first thing we want to know, is what the hell are you exactly? Some sort of mythical creature? Some sort of demon, or proclaimed god? Or what, some failed experiment from another country?" his voice is stern.

Fuck it, might as well tell him. Maybe then I can scare them off. "Demon," I reply weakly, in a way that sounded unlike an insult so he would know I was giving him his answer and not giving a poor attempt to insult him.

"A demon?" he repeats, a bit surprised I came out with it so easily, "Like from the fiery pits of hell? With Satan as your leader?" he sounds almost amused now.

"Satan doesn't exist," I find myself mumbling, grinding my teeth together.

"Then who does?" he bites back calmly, but his voice is as cold as a snake's blood.

"A ring of ancestors," I reply after much hesitation. They must have injected some sort of truth serum or something, for I would normally never give out information like that.

Agent Noir perks a single brow at the answer, attempting to figure out what the hell a ring of ancestors meant. Or maybe something else entirely. I don't fucking know, I can't read minds.

"Do you take the souls of the living?" he asks after an awkward and silent pause.

"No," I grumble miserably. Why the fuck can I just _not _talk to this fucking loser?

"Do you kill people?" he asks almost immediately after, his voice sounding somewhat panicked now.

I can't help but smirk at this. He lost his fucking cool, oh what joy. "Sometimes," I say, glaring at him now, a somewhat amused look on my face in a half-assed sort of way, due to the drugs.

I almost have a heart attack when an alarm blares throughout where ever the hell we were. He stands, knocking the chair backwards as much commotion from elsewhere is heard. And then everything seems to happen in a haze. The door to the mirror room is kicked through to the other side, shattering several other mirrors. I hear someone call my name but my hearing is still off and my vision still weary. And then all of a sudden there is fire and Vriska, another demon and my friend, is kneeling before me and cutting off the hand restraints on my wheelchair.

And Sollux is there, too, another of my demon blooded friends. I'm lifted on to his shoulders quite quickly. My vision blurs and swirls and I'm only half there for the rescue. Or at least, I'm pretty sure it's what you'd consider a rescue, right? Gunfire, flames, white coats, human guards, Sollux's lightning and then somehow we're outside of that awful research facility. The chatter between Vriska and Sollux doesn't seem so reassuring, but I just nod and try my best to stay conscious until finally I just can't, and I black out in Sollux arms.

* * *

When I wake up, I can see Vriska kneeling before me, a worried look on her face. It was only in rare occasions she would display such sympathy for someone. She's normally the one doing the torturing, so it makes you feel special when she gives you genuine emotions or smiles. "Karkles," she began in a somewhat panicky way, "the ancestors are pissed..._really _pissed," she finished. I suddenly understood, blink the bleariness from my eyes I stared at her, horrified. I bet they'll kill me.

Vriska places a small hand on my shoulder. "You're gonna need to lay low for a while. I'd give it a few months, maybe three or four at the least. You can handle that, right?" she asks in all seriousness and I simply nod drowsily in reply, looking her in the eyes.

She nods back in understanding. "My spell will wear off if you use your demonic powers, so you're just going to have to bear with not setting things on fire," she says. I'm not quite sure if there was amusement in her tone or not, but either way it was the truth. If I wanted to start a fire then I would have to do it the human way.

Vriska's lips began moving really quickly, exceedingly fast and inaudible words are spoken. I look down at my hands and see the gray tint of my flesh change into a very pale skin color. I then reach up to my head to see that the horns are somehow no longer there. Ugh, a human suit, just what a needed: more confinement. Her words stopped and she took a moment to catch her breath. It was a complex spell that only few could even learn; you were either born with the capacity to use it or you weren't, and Vriska just so happened to be able to use it, but it certainly took a lot of energy to use.

She looks up to admire her work after catching her breath. She bites the inside of her cheek. "I couldn't hide your canine fangs or your tail," she grumbles. She may have been able to use the spell, but she certainly didn't have the sort of power to fully capacitate its use. In other words, I would have to be cautious for I wasn't completely disguised as a human.

I mumble something back that sounds similar to a sincere 'thanks' and she simply nods, pushing clothes in front of me and forcing me to hold them. "Change into these, quickly!" she almost snapped but there was onset panic in her voice and it was completely understandable.

I take a moment to inspect the garments. There's a dark, plain gray tee, a dark pair of jeans, and a black hoodie that looks like it would be a little baggy on me. There are also red converse by her knees. I take no extra time as I practically _rip_ off research facility white scrubs and swiftly cloth myself in the more modern human garb. Everything fits perfectly, mind the hoodie being a little baggie, but it isn't too much and it fits the look. I look over at Vriska and she nods at the normal look I posess before letting out a small squeak. "What?" I manage to absentmindedly bark and she grumbles under her breath as she grabs my tail and shoves it down the backside of my jeans. I let out a small growl but don't fight her actions.

Sollux comes into the small groove of bushes and rock, out of breath, "They've got search dogs out already, it's time to go," he states in his semi-lisp trying to keep calm as he turns his attention to me, "the city is just about a mile that way, can you make it?" he asks while pointing to the north. I nod and we pause for only a moment as if to say our silent goodbyes and I do the same with Vriska before I turn around and start running as fast as I can in the direction that Sollux had pointed toward.

My heart pounds in my chest and I can hear its loud thumping in my ears. I don't stop. I don't stop running even when I get to the outskirts of the woodland and enter a park area. I don't stop running as fast as I can until I get well into the southern part of the city, whatever city it was, and I certainly don't stop until I reach a small bookshop with the lights still on. I don't stop even when it starts to pour. The rain crashes against the pavement, splattering about with each drop and soaking the city, cleansing it. Hopefully they've stopped searching for me, the humans that is, with their smelly, vicious beasts. I stop and catch my breath under the over hang of the small bookshop near the outskirts of town and, attempting to avoid becoming ill in this more human-like form, I enter the store.


	2. John

2: Enter the bookstore to cower in fear of being ripped to bits by vicious dogs.

Uhm, that would be a no. It would cause too much of a ruckus to do that in public and it would more than likely cost way too fucking much to cover it up. My guess is that the dogs lost my scent when we hit the city and it started to rain, washing away their trail to follow. So hah, stupid mutts.

I sigh wearily, sort of surprised that it sounds so weak. I must be really tired, beyond my own comprehension. I glance over at a dark cherry wood counter to my right, some dork with ray bans at the counter. His name tag reads JOHN in very boring, standard issue letters. What a boring 'Average Joe' human. He simply blinked several times deliberately, as if to double check if he actually saw me or if he was hallucinating. Oh don't worry, I am definitely here.

I ignore the guy and move my way to the back, quickly locating the section of romance novels. I sit down slowly and lean against a bookcase bolted to the wall. The shelf is cutting uncomfortably into my back but frankly I'm just too damn tired to give a flying fuck. It may just be my imagination, but it seemed as though the lights flickered. But no, I realize then that it's just my eyelids attempting to keep open. I decide it won't hurt to get a few minutes of shuteye. I pull my knees up to my chest, pulling my sweatshirt hood over my soaked hair and leaned my head back against the bookshelf.

It only seemed that I had been asleep for a minute before I am being shaken by the shoulder. I grumble under my breath incoherent words, but every once in a while you could here something like 'but mom', 'go away', and 'fuck you' come out of my mouth. Finally I mustered up the strength (and irritation) to open my eyes and look at the culprit of this infuriating shaking. And who else but that fucking boring John kid at the front desk. I growl a little as I look through his black rimmed ray bans.

He looks worried. When I think about it, I'd be pretty worried if some strange looking drenched guy trudged into a bookstore at this time of night, too. His eyes are blue. Not like murky blue, but blue like the sky and suddenly I find myself staring at them. I flinch, blushing furiously and turn my gaze over to an adjoining bookshelf. "Oh, uhm, glad that you're awake," he started awkwardly, because he'd been staring at me, too. "I need to close up, so I'm sorry but you have to leave," he finished, an apologetic expression on his face.

I look over at him confused, it couldn't be so late that it was closing time, could it? But my silent question was answered quite readily, "After about an hour and a half, I just thought that you'd gotten yourself submerged in a good book so I didn't bother looking for you, but when you had been here for two hours and I hadn't seen you since you arrived, I got a little worried and came to get you because it was near closing time," he says calmly. Well shit, I certainly didn't need to hear his whole fucking life story.

But I'm much too tired to bite back with a sarcastic or rude remark. I simply nod and shakily get to my feet before I start heading for the door. John lingers in the back section and I see some lights turn off, the front half of the store's still on. I sigh, seeing that it is pouring even heavier than it had been supposedly two hours ago, because I hate fucking water. Seriously, it felt like I had slept maybe five minutes tops and it ended up being two fucking hours. It's absolutely ridiculous that I still feel like I haven't had sleep in days. I groan as I exit the door, the bell jingling a little as I duck my head a little in the rain, my hands coming to hold my hood in a secure place as I attempt to dash to the corner of the store where an over hang lingers in the air in the alleyway beside the bookshop.

I don't even fucking care anymore if the ground is fucking so filthy that it's diseased. I slump down along the side of the brick wall attached to the book store. I wince as a sharp pain rolls through my body but quickly disperses as quickly as it appears. Great, now that I'm in this more human form I'm probably going to get pneumonia and die or some shit. Fucking fantastic.

I once again pull my knees to my chest, zipping up my sweatshirt all the way to keep out as much cold as possible, but I can't help but shiver, every bone in my body aches for some reason and I'm so cold my fingers and toes are numb. I breathe into my hands to attempt getting at least _some _feeling back in them, but it's futile because they're still fucking frozen.

After about a few minutes of me sitting there and internally screaming at Vriska and Sollux for not giving me some form of money, at least enough to spend that night at some dumpy motel, I hear the bell of the store jingle again. I sigh, breath shaking and feel something hot stain my cheeks. I touch the newfound warmth and find that they're wet, but it's not rain. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. _I'm trapped in a human suit and now I'm fucking crying like a baby.

Something moving in the sidewalk catches my attention as it suddenly stops. I look over and see none other than the book store clerk staring at me, umbrella in hand. The expression on his face looks like a cross between shock and pain, I don't really know what the fuck it is to be honest, all these human emotions are fucking weird. All I know is that I want him to mind his own business and I'll mind mine. I turn my attention back to relieving my fingers of all the freezing stress as I blow hot air on them, rubbing them together. And apparently I spoke much too soon about that dorky human minding his own business because suddenly there are a pair of legs in my field of vision, right in front of me to be exact. I silently curse.

He balances himself on the balls of his feet, sitting on his heels and clear umbrella in hand. I look at him involuntarily before staring down at my hands. He seemed hesitant for some reason but then he finally spoke, "Do…do you have a place to stay tonight?" he asks in an almost timid manner. I shake my head slowly, not daring to look at him. "You can stay at my place if you want," he continued.

I grumbled, not looking at him. "I don't need your pity," I say weakly, and I'm almost afraid it's no louder than a whisper.

"It's not pity!" he barked and I couldn't help but look up at him, a determined look in his blue eyes, "I'm trying to _help _you! Do you really have so much pride as to not accept that?" he states a bit more sternly. I don't reply. I can't. Not just because I don't have anything to say to that, but I physically can't, no matter how many times I try and open my mouth it remains perfectly shut.

"Actually, you know what, you don't have a choice. I'll _make_ you if you refuse," he says. Any normal person would think someone who said that was a rapist or something, but the way this John guy said it, it was almost impossible to think such dirty thoughts because it was so obvious his actions were innocent and he was dead set on helping me.

He holds out his hand and I take it without thinking. Great, he fucking coerced my stupid human body. He stands, practically dragging me onto my feet and smiles kindly. "John Egbert," he says in a gentle voice. What a weird name.

"Karkat Vantas," the words leave my mouth before I bite them back. Probably would have been best to use some sort of alias, but as I look into John's eyes I can't help but be truthful.

He lets out a small chuckle, "Exotic," he comments and my face heats up and I'm not sure if it's because I was blushing or because I was still holding his hand or even if I had a fever because I was drenched to the bone and shivering.

His fingers tangled with mine to properly hold hands like something from a romance novel or movie. You know, not that I, er, liked that stuff or anything. Can you image me liking that dumb crap? Heheh, heh…heh.

He led me to his apartment and we both remained silent the whole way. I was really thankful that his umbrella was big enough to cover both of us so I didn't have to stand in the fucking rain any longer. His apartment was on a nice street of light brick and pastel colors with a row of trees along the brick sidewalks, fancy lamp posts and everything. The apartments were all in rows and attached together. I liked it, it was…cute. Er, PLEASANT! I mean _pleasant _that is!

John handed me the umbrella and I took it curiously as he reached into his pocket for something, pulling out a key. He leaned forward unlocking the door, and several droplets dripped onto the front of his hair but he didn't really seem to mind. He took the umbrella, closing it and sticking it in a vase in a corner right next to the inside of the door. When I walked in I could see a wooden staircase right there to my right and a hardwood floored hallway that seemed to lead to some sort of open kitchen/living room. But before that opening there, there was another door at the far end of the hall that looked like a bathroom and a nook in the wall just beside the bathroom door that seemed to be the home of two really modern red washing machine and dryer duo, one atop the other.

I slipped of my shoes as John did while sliding off his coat. I followed him close behind as we went down the hall, passing the large arch in the wall leading to the open kitchen/living room. As my gaze was elsewhere I was unaware that John had stopped walking until I walked right into him. I step back quickly, looking up at him a bit surprised and he only gives a dorky human smile before moving to unzip my sweatshirt. I flinch back and grab his wrist to stop him. He seems to already get my anxious vibe. "I'm going to put you're clothes in the wash, they're soaked anyways," he explains calmly and then I remove my firm grasp.

"Here, follow me," he says and I nod as he tosses the soggy hoodie into the front gate of the open washing machine. He makes his way back to the door but pivots and starts up the stairs, as do I in a swift pursuit. When we walk up the stairs, there isn't any hallways or anything, just one big open room with a queen-sized, low sitting bed in the center against the far right wall. The whole upstairs seemed to be his bedroom, and another door was on the farthest wall from the staircase, which was probably another bathroom.

John walked up to a bureau and started digging through it. Alas, he found a plain gray t-shirt that looked too small for him and he handed it too me, along with blue and white striped boxers. I blink. Right, he wanted me to change. He waits expectantly as I place the clothes he gave me on the edge of his bed and peel off the soaking wet shirt, handing it to him. He takes it and waits for the rest and I'm about to take off the pants before I remember that I am still not completely human and that within the confines of those jeans is my tail which Vriska could not camouflage. And besides, I'm a little embarrassed just stripping like that in front of someone while their eyes are practically _clawing_ at my skin.

I walk behind him and attempt to push him, but he moves along with my pushing and I push him to the stairs. He stands there blinking for a few moments before he suddenly lets out an 'ooohh' of understanding and walks down stairs, waiting for the rest of his clothes. And, it might have just been me, but I'm pretty sure I saw him blushing. I turn my attention back to changing however and clickly peel off the pants, briefs, and socks that had been drenched in rainwater. I pulled the gray t-shirt over my head it was just a little baggy but it was good for a night shirt. Then I pulled on the very plain blue and white vertical striped boxers.

I tossed the wet clothes down to John and he scurried off to put them into the wash. I sigh, looking around, curling my toes against a small, shag area rug. In the corner directly across from the stairs is a desk and laptop. Hmmm, maybe John wasn't a geek. I mean, wouldn't geeks have like 5 computers and a bunch of chords running through their houses? Well, I'm not a fucking derpy human expert, so I drop the thought. I partially walk, partially drag my feet over to John's bed before I pat at the edge of its side. It seems comfortable enough, and so I sit on it. Y'know, to wait until he comes back.

But god is my body aching and I find my eyes are fluttering open and closed because they have no strength left for me to stay awake. I slump back and rest my head on my arm, curling up after my other hand pats around and finds one of the five off white blue head pillows and I pull it close, wrapping my limbs around it and before I can stop myself I finally give out and fall into a deep, cumbersome, dreamless sleep


	3. Thank You

3: John, wake up and reminisce about the events that took place last night.

Okay. Wait, what? John sits up and rubs his eyes groggily. His eyes train on the the flickering light that is his living room television. Did he fall asleep on the couch again last night? The curtains on the windows keep the room dark even in the morning. He looks over at the clock on the cable box. It reads 8:36 in the morning. He feels a sharp pain jab his bag and his hand lazily grabs at it and he finds the t.v. remote in his grasp. He must have hit the mute button in his sleep because there currently is no noise emitting from the box of dancing lights.

He shuts it off and tosses the remote onto the coffee table with a light clanging. John rolls off the small leather couch and onto the floor groaning, reaching his hand up to search for his glasses blindly. When his fingers find a boxed lens, they curl around it lightly and bring the eye glasses to his face. He slowly rises to his feet to head to his bedroom, specifically his bathroom, where he can take a shower and wake up or something.

His feet trudged up the stairs, his fingers going to lightly scratch into the surface of his lean muscled and shirtless torso. His dark plaid flannel pajama bottoms partially dragging up the stairs with his feet as his blue boxers hung slightly out of them. When John alas reached the top of the stairs and trudged into the center of his room, he catches a slight shuffling in the corner of his eye. This is when he recalls that he had helped some poor, more than likely homeless, guy and let him spend the night away from the rain. What's his name again? Kar…Karkat? Yeah, that's it: his name was Karkat Vantas.

John sighs, attempting to walk a little more silently, and makes his way over to the edge of the bed. The poor guy is still passed out and there are prominently visible dark circles under his eyes. Somehow the pillows had all been must of and the comforter was in some sort of nest shaped thing with the gu — _Karkat _in the center, completely uncovered. It doesn't seem to bother him to sleep like that, so John just shrugs.

Karkat's clothes are all disheveled and rumpled from probably tossing and turning in his slumber. John blinks the bleariness from his eyes. What is _that_? Aside from the fact that John was basically staring at Karkat's ass and the dimples above them (which made him blush when he realized he was eyeing them), there is something unnatural about the scene in front of him. There is something long, thin and black fading out of Karkat's back, running along his leg and then resting under a blanket. John, out of pure curiosity, leans over the edge of his bed with his hand outstretched to touch the subject in question.

His fingers come to a rest at the base of the strange thing where it slowly fades into Karkat's back, and for sure it definitely attached, the bone running through and connecting to the smaller male's spine. John can't help but lightly grasp it, pulling it up and seeing how long it is, which he guesses is about to Karkat's ankles - maybe longer. He pulls it out of the covers and spots a tuft of fur on the end. Wait, this couldn't be a…a _tail_, could it? But if not, what else would it be? John just stares at the thi — tail, and runs his thumb along the tiny, soft and almost iridescent black scales that had a reddish sheen in the light that filtered through the bedroom shades. It's certainly solid, with nothing but the muscles that wrapped around the continuation of spine. John's eyes flicker back to Karkat, his body tensing, as the other male grumbled incoherent words under his breath while still asleep/ John relaxed a little, his thumb continuing its way down the black tail.

It's only when John's fingers are about to get to the small tuft of hair that he hesitates for only a moment. Karkat doesn't seem to mind the actions of innocent curiosity, so he continues. His thumb rest at the very tip-top of the tail, his finger no longer grasping but just allowing the tail to rest atop them. His thumbs drives into the dip to create a little more pressure than before and circles against the grain of the silky hairs. John almost crawls out of his skin when the tail ever so lightly begins to vibrate, but doesn't stop his thumb doesn't stop moving against the grain of the hair tuft. His eyes wander to Karkat's face and he realizes that not only is Karkat smiling, but the noises he now hears is emitting from the other's throat as well. He's purring. Karkat's actually purring. And when Karkat's eyes open groggily and look over at John, switching from happy and lazy to flying open with fear, John's stomach drops.

* * *

3: Karkat, wake the fuck up and freak the fuck out.

Now why would I want to do that? I'm perfectly content right now. I just slept the longest I think ever in my entire existence and now my body feels all fuzzy and warm for some reason. I can even hear myself purring, hohummm~, so very nice...wait a minute. I only purr when two things are happening. The first scenario I purr in is when pressure is applied in a certain area on my neck in which I cannot help but melt (and only two people know the existence of that, the first being me and the other my best friend in all of both mortal and supernatural worlds, Gamzee). The second scenario in which I purr is when someone is messing with my tail. And I am certainly not messing with my own tail at the moment.

I open my eyes lazily, unable to help the sleepiness that still clings itself to them. My gaze slowly makes it way over to the figure currently touching my tail and then all of a sudden a wave of fear floods over my every being. _Fuck, fuck, fuck! _The derpy human had let me spend the night at his house in shelter of the rain and I had completely fucking forgotten that I still had my tail. I know I remembered to hide it last night but who knew if it had gotten loose while I slept. Fuck, and now the stupid guy had found out.

I grasp my tail and yank it back into the safety of my arms, they purring stops almost immediately. I just stare at John in wide-eyed fear as he remains silent. It's obvious he's attempting to compose himself again. I watch as his chest lifts, his lungs filling with air, before the oxygen is released again as carbon dioxyde out through his mouth, his chest muscles contracting as well. My eyes find their way to his and he can somehow still display a face of pure calm. "Why do you have a tail?" his voice cracks but I'm too afraid to point it out.

"It's a...a p-prop, yeah, it's fake," I search my brain for some sort of excuse, but it isn't working because John doesn't look very impressed at the lie.

"I think that's the worst lie I've ever heard," he says quietly and I look down at my trembling hands clamping down on the black appendage. "What exactly are you?" and as he says this I'm surprised it's not out of contempt but more of pure curiosity and a sad attempt at sounding understanding.

I'm not sure if I should tell him the truth, but whatever the fuck could I be other than a demon? Some failed experiment? At least if I tell him the truth he won't have to call the police, he can just run away in cowardice and I can be on my merry way. I look him in the eyes, mine fierce, his calm and I can tell he's a little uneasy. "A demon," I hiss at him, my eyes narrowing.

John simply blinks before leaning in, his hand moving closer to me and I flinch away but his hand rests on my head lightly and I stop tensing so much. Okay, now I'm really confused. I look over at him, removing my focus from his arm and see that's he's smiling. I give a quizzical expression. "I knew you were different," he states with a light chuckle tagging along at the end.

Okay, what? "Are you fucking retarded?" I bark at him but it only seems to amuse him further. Well, at least I have my voice back again.

"So what happened?" he asks, changing the subject.

I think about his question for a few heartbeats before answering. "What do you mean 'what happened'?" Okay, so it wasn't the answer he was looking for but still, this guy had to be really dumb to be perfectly sane knowing I'm a demon and that I could easily rip out his throat with my bare hands. So maybe not in this human form, but still.

"Why are you all alone? Don't you have a family? Or a home?" something in his voice made it sound like this question would be directed normally toward a lost, little kitten.

My throat feels like it's closing in on itself but I muster up the strength to speak, "I can't go back," I whisper, my gaze being dropped to my hands. Why am I even talking to this stupid human anyway? I suppose I can't help it.

Before I can do anything about it, John is next to me on the bed and I am being pulled into his arms. He rests his cheek on top of my head and I can't help but blush. He smells faintly of yellow Axe and something about being in his embrace is comforting and not at all awkward like I would think it to be all pressed up to someone's bare chest like that. He makes a cooing noise and slightly rocks back and forth and I have no idea why until I realize that I'm shaking horribly. "You can stay with me," he says quietly like he doesn't want anyone else to hear even though we're the only ones in his apartment.

I pull away from his chest and studied his big, blue eyes. He seems a little flustered at this and glances away clearing his throat. "Thank you," I find my mouth moving without my permission. Fuck, I don't even know if I want to but it just seems...right. Like it's the right thing to do, the natural thing.

He simply smiles a dorky half smile, warmth in his oceanic gaze, before his hand cups the side of my face and his thumb swipes away something. And that's when I curse this stupid fucking human suit because damnit this is the second time: I'm crying.


	4. Sweater

**Author's Note:** Oh my gosh, guys, I didn't expect to get such an immediate response on this story. So I'd just like to thank you all! Thanks so much, and I mean it! *Gladly accepts jar of fan-girl tears*. Also, here's a longer chapter b/c now that I know people like my writing, I all of a sudden have an urge to write incredible amounts more. Love ya's! — SA-CHAN.

* * *

4: Karkat, rant about the past ten days before you wake the fuck up.

That's right, it's been exactly 10 days since John brought me home. Normally I would be apt to question the reasons of any human grub because more than always they have some ulterior motive for their actions. But, just, fuck. It's John. I honestly did not think anyone could be so fucking ignorant, but I also didn't think anyone could be so kind. And I feel a little conflicted at times because I'm a fucking demon and yet I feel kinda' sorry for him; he works himself to the bone, working almost 12 hour days and then sometimes working night shifts somewhere else just for some extra cash. And no matter what he always seems to put a smile on his face or reassure those who care that everything is just fine and fucking dandy.

And one thing I really don't get about him is that every now and then when he asks me a question about, y'know, my being a demon and all, he just sits and listens looking all fascinated like a little kid and he doesn't say a word. And if I say I don't want to talk then he doesn't pry. On top of that he doesn't even seem phased by the idea that I am in fact a demonic entity. Okay, so maybe not an "entity" but something like that.

Aside from all the emotional human shit, though. I've mainly been hanging around the house and John went through his closet to find as many small shirts, pants, et cetera that he could find for me (which wasn't much) and so I've been wearing my clothes and his clothes. That would mean that I currently own three sets of clothes, but unfortunately one of them is night wear.

John and I have watched that stupid Nicholas Cage movie "Con Air" like everyday now and it's fucking retarded. Also, I've found that my favorite human drink is Milk. And what's the fucking point of snuggies because they are shit and John has one with Nicholas Cage on it and it scares the fuck out of me to no end. You have no idea. You have no idea what it is like when you're asleep in a chair and John has slung his Nicholas Cage snuggie across his couch so that the moment you open your eyes he is fucking there. He is fucking there and staring into your soul. Let's just say I've fallen out of his chair several times.

But anyways, the other day he got a call from someone and his face had lit up almost immediately which kind of made my stomach all weird but I had tried my best to bite back the stupid humanity pot of emotion soup. Fuck that was a bad metaphor. Or analogy. Or whatever the fuck that was, you get the point. Anyways, it sounded like they were making plans for this Saturday and John was eyeing me apologetically for some fucking reason and when he was done I had asked him who it was. He told me it was his sister, Jade. I doubt they're related, though, by the way he said it. Well, today's Saturday, the day John made plans for with his "sister" Jade.

I open my eyes a crack as I feel a light tapping on my shoulder. Normally I'd swat it away for more sleep, but I'm already awake anyways. John's sitting on the edge of his bed, the clothes Vriska had given me all folded neatly on his lap along with a fresh towel. I wonder what ever the fuck is the occasion because I do believe this is the first time he's done this. "Rise and shine, we've got a big day ahead of us!" he smiles, dreadfully chipper for the morning. I grumble, opening my eyes more after rubbing them and just stare blankly at him, then my surroundings. I can quite distinctly remember I had fallen asleep on the couch last night while we were watching Con Air for like the billionth time, so why in the fuck am I in his bed?

"I carried you," he says. At first I think that maybe he can read minds, but then I internally slap myself because that's absurd and my brain is too tired to pick up on the fact that maybe I just have a flustered look on my face and that it's obvious to what I am thinking. Pause for dramatic gasp of air.

"Oh," I mumble back, letting the words sink into the back of my skull. "Wait, _what?_" I bark, a blush creeping onto my cheeks as I picture John a white knight carrying bridal style a damsel in distress (which would be me of course). And really, the only thing that bugs me about such imagery is the fact that I am in a fucking pink dress. He seems overly amused at my reaction.

John creases his brows while smiling, giving that 'standard John-issue apologetic look'. "You just looked so uncomfortable the way you fell asleep on the couch so I thought that I'd bring you upstairs so you could be a little comfier and you didn't really seem to mind either," he tries to explain without sounding like some weirdo. I sigh. Whatever. It's in the past now and I wasn't really fucking conscious so what the fuck ever.

I grab the clothes and towel and lazily get to my feet stumbling a bit. The fact that he said that _we_ have a big day ahead of _us _still worries me but I guess it can't really be avoided.

By the time I'm done showering, which this time I opted to use John's bathroom because I was too lazy to walk downstairs, the clock reads 8:39. John's all ready and waiting for me and I give him a death glare because it is way too fucking early to go outside. And it's either my imagination or something because I swear I can hear an almost snide comment like 'ready your highness?' come out of his mouth but he still has on that goofy smile of his so I just continue to glare my invisible daggers his way. Fuck you, John. Fuck you.

Of course, I'm not saying this after long because he takes me out for breakfast even though I insist we don't have to. He simply says he wants to. How do you argue with that? And the guy doesn't even order any food, just coffee. I try the coffee, too: and it tastes like fucking shit. How does he fucking drink that? And on top of all that he just sits and smiles and watches me eat. I'm almost self-conscious about shoveling the food in my mouth, but then I realize I don't give a fuck what he thinks and I eat my french toast like several starving children in africa would a buffet. Only, I attempt to keep as much composure and table manners as possible. Y'know, for John's sake. But _fuck _do I want to slap that amused look off his face _so fucking bad._

When he's finished paying and we are already out on the streets walking along the midst of town I glance up at him. He seems to be looking around for someone. "So what are we doing today?" I ask, eyes a little wider than usual from curiosity.

He smiles and looks at me with something like adoration and simply states, "Shopping."

I already want to kill him.

He spends way too much money on me as it is.

And then, out of no where there is a flash of black hair, bright green eyes, a devilish smirk, and rather fancy looking clothes and peacoat. And whatever the fuck this thing is, it's hugging me. I struggle a little, flailing as the, the, the _thing_ is squealing lightly in my ear. I am completely horrified at the moment and I look over at John in shear horror but he only seems to be holding back laughter. Now I'm being held by the shoulders and I realize that it is not a thing that is scaring the living shit out of me, but a girl: a stupid, human girl. She jumps up and down a little, bouncing on her feet jubilantly. "I'm so glad I finally get to meet you, you lil' rascal!" she chirps happily.

I stare blankly at her as her yammering continues. "You're Karkat I take it? John's told me about you! So are you guys like, dating or something? Huh, huh? Have you guys kissed, huh? You should, I brought my camera so you can be canon and stuff to the world!" she squawks joyfully.

Now it's John's turn to be completely horrified. "Jade! What the fuck!" he blurts out louder than he probably anticipated, his voice cracking slightly. This is the first time I've ever heard John swear. It seems awkward and misplaced. No wonder he doesn't cuss very often.

Jade smirks, settling her hyperactivity. "I'm just pulling your strings, John, yeesh," she states in a calmer, but still contented way.

His face is red and I can't help but take my turn to laugh at his dumbfounded expression. I giggle a little. For fuck's sake I **giggle**. Jade and John look at each other and then back to me as I calm down from my strange and uncommon fit. Jade then reaches into her shoulder bag and pulls out something a deep red color. "Oh yeah," she begins as she wraps it around my neck lightly, "I saw this scarf in a window on my way here and seeing how it's going to start getting colder from here on out I thought it would make a nice gift. Not to mention it's a little chilly today, too. Should be some snow within the next few weeks," she states. It's warm and the scarf's material is soft but durable and I already love it. I blush, mumbling a thank you while nodding my head. She seems rather satisfied so I leave it at that.

John looks at her with a rather dumbfounded expression. "Jade..." he begins, "Jade it's the middle of Summer, why would it snow...and why are you wearing a jacket?," he asks still completely stupefied but the girl just stares at him blankly.

"Okay then!" she practically barks while ignoring John, "Enough with the awkward formalities! Let us shop, boys!" she finishes her commands and grabs John on one arm and me on the other practically dragging us on the inevitable endeavor of 'clothes shopping'.

* * *

It's only been about an hour and a half and I've already decided that I fucking hate shopping. Especially with Jade. I'm fine with plain looking, easy to grab and go clothes but Jade insists I wear something gaudy or tacky or girly. Especially girly. We've had a lot of girly things come into the clothes pile we have going for me. I really wish she'd stop. But at least I don't have to worry about other people giving weirded-out looks because the store is deserted. Apparently no one goes clothes shopping at 11 in the morning. Or maybe it's just one of those days with slow business, who knows.

We finally arrive with the load to the changing rooms and John helps me carry everything into the large one. Jade nods happily at the giant pile of clothing on the floor. "John, you stay here with Karkat. Even though you're a simpleton with clothing, you still know what looks good and what doesn't. So you stay here while I go dig up another pile of clothing," she says with a dorky grin. John shrugs and sits on the bench in the large changing room and I feel a light blush creep onto my face. Fucking — JEGUS WHY DOES MY HUMAN BODY TORMENT ME?

Jade walks out a moment before immediately slipping back in, index finger pointed to the ceiling. "Aristocats is the shit, _don't touch Karkat_, butternipples is an acceptable nickname or maybe it's not, _don't touch Karkat; _FOR ALL OF HUMANITY DO NOT MOLEST KARKAT, JOHN!" and just like that she walks out again, shutting the door behind her. I blink a few times before looking over at John. "Wha —" I begin but he simply shakes his head and mouths silently the words 'no idea'.

I sigh for about the millionth time today as my gaze returns to the dreadfully large pile of clothes. Well, here goes I guess.

After we find two outfits that are incredibly normal looking, which in all honesty I prefer, I just so happen upon something that catches my eye. I don't recall Jade or I putting it in the pile at all. It's a very dark gray turtleneck with a black cat figure on the front. I look over at John. "What?" he asks, obviously concerned.

I lift the article of clothing up and show him the print. He laughs nervously. "I s-saw it and I thought it looked c-cute so I just sort of threw it in the pile w-without thinking," he stumbles over his words. I turn to look in the mirror while holding the cat sweater up.

Now normally I would fuss and say that cat sweaters belonged to crazy old cat ladies, but this one isn't too childish or too old person looking or too girly. I have to say it sort of fits me, not that I'm implying I'd wear a cat sweater or anything...heh, heh. I hold the turtleneck between my legs and take off the t-shirt currently adorning my torso. I toss it in the 'keep' corner of the room for all clothes we'll most likely end up buying. Somehow in this mess of struggle I end up stuck, with the sweater all twisted and junk. "Uhm, help?" I peep, which only forces John to chuckle lightly.

I suddenly feel his hand on my arms as he attempts to take the sweater off. I flail, almost freaking out. I just want the fucking thing off me. Now. I fidget and flail some more, losing my balance I hear a small squeak from John as I bump into his chest and suddenly it feels like we're floating, only we're not: we're falling. I let out a small yip of alert before we hit the ground and all of a sudden I'm on top of John. I fidget some more which elicits a grunt from John. I freeze and John's hands are tugging at the sweater and my head finds the neck hole. Alas, the sweater is on! Hoo-fucking-zah!

I smile and attempt to get off of John but fail miserably, jerking my knee between his legs which evokes another grunting noise from John. "Karkat," he grumbles in a somewhat irritated tone and I note that for some weird reason his cheeks are bright red and he's looking away.

Hmm, it must be a little embarrassing in this position for him. I attempt to get up yet again but now our legs are tangled. This time it isn't a deep John grunt, no. This time it's a groan coming to high pitched squeak at the end. I freeze, removing my gaze from the the legs situation and look over at John. I want to bristle like a cat for some reason. Here I was, attempting to get off of John to avoid any awkwardness and now I've only created more than what I asked for. John's cheeks are dusted with light crimson and this time he isn't looking away. This time he's looking at me with his big, blue eyes and his full eyelashes while he bites on his lip to subdue any more unwanted noise.

I can't help but blush because he looks so utterly helpless. I forgot how sensitive humans are when it comes to their...junk. Wow, I feel filthy calling it that but that's kinda' what it is. "Uhm, John?" I ask and I'm surprised when I hear my voice is trembling. John's hands claw at the ground and he looks away.

"Just...just don't move, okay?" he whispers huskily, and a shiver involuntarily rolls down my spine. Nevertheless, I do as he says.

We stay like that for a what seems like forever, but it's probably only a minute or two. John's breathing returns to normal and the blush no longer sits on his cheeks. He sighs, and it sounds a lot like relief. He slides backwards before getting up. He does so without any trouble and I'm a little embarrassed I couldn't keep a cool head like that when I was stuck. His hand is suddenly in front of me and I grab it as he helps pull me up. We're completely silent and as much as I hate to admit it, I'm dying for Jade to come back to end the awkwardness.

I step in front of the mirror and realize that the cat sweater fits me perfectly physically, but also personality wise, too. I decide I'll get it. I take it off and put on all the clothes I came here with. I grab the clothes I decide to buy and sling them over one arm. "I don't know about you but I'm done for today," I mumble and John just nods, letting out an 'mm' sound of agreement.

We just leave the rest of the unwanted clothes in a pile there because I bet it isn't just me who's itching to ditch the now seemingly claustrophobic changing room. We spot Jade walking toward us and she frowns. "What's wrong, you two?" she asks as she holds up a pink, lacy bra to my chest. I want to spit fucking fire at her for that.

"We're both just really tired. I don't know how you girls do it," I hear John chuckle from behind me and I hope he can feel my waves of gratitude for answering the damn question because otherwise I think I would've lunged for Jade's throat.

Jade shrugs, "Oh well," she says and takes the clothes away from my grasp. I see John place a $100 dollar bill near her mouth and she grabs it in her teeth, speaking incomprehensibly but I would imagine she said 'thanks'. She skips to the counter to pay for everything and John and I keep close behind, not wanting to stir up the awkward topic about what exactly happened in the changing room.

Jade shoves two bags in my hands, a big smile on her face and I take them with a silent 'thank you' and she seems to understand because she nods.

As we exit the store, I linger a little behind John and Jade and zone out a little, focusing on their conversation while staring at my feet. They seem to talk in quiet voices.

"So how was it?" Jade asks suggestively.

John grumbles. "Jade, I'm not a homosexual," he says in tone just shy of whining.

And I'm not exactly sure why I stopped listening after Jade's response, but I did, and I was silent the whole way home, or, to John's house. And when we arrived I went straight upstairs to take a nap in all my new clothes on his bed and god knows where the fuck John was but that didn't matter. What only seemed to matter to my puzzled mind was Jade's last words.

"John, I think you and I both know that ship sailed a long time ago."


	5. Alcohol

**Author's Note:** I don't know if any of you follow my tumblr, but I explain stuff about why I don't post. So yeah, if you're interested than go on my tumblr, but if not then I apologize for this being updated so late! I've been sooo busy w/ work lately and I need to get ready for the next school year w/ school shopping and junk. But yeah, here you guys go! Enjoy!

* * *

Cry, fool, cry.

I sit, practically strangling the box of tissues, sobbing at such a happy ending. I have just witnessed the beautiful piece of filmography called "50 First Dates" and it is spectacular and wonderful. I had to really dig around John's rather large collection of 80s action flicks to find something even close to a romantic set film and this was all I could manage to find. I hear a lighthearted chuckle from what I assume is the arch in the wall connecting the hallway and living room/kitchen. I whip around to see John looking at me with a rather amused expression. "Why are you watching that dumb movie?" he asks lightheartedly.

I pout almost comically and my eyebrows furrow, my face heating up. "I-It's not dumb, okay? It's art!" I nod to doubly assure him that I am correct and by far superior in the ways of movie standards. He just rolls his eyes at me, a derpy grin on his face.

I look at the time on the cable box clock. It's only five. I stay put a moment after turning off the television and DVD box. I listen to the sound of rustling and shuffling from John doing something or rather. He probably had groceries, but I don't want to interfere for John is rather sensitive about putting certain groceries in certain places. "Hey John?" I ask and wait for a reassuring mumble along the lines of 'yes?' or 'huh?'. I sigh before continuing, "Isn't it early for you to be home?" I ask. In all honesty I'm overjoyed, but slightly worried at the sudden change against routine.

"I have the day off tomorrow," he says in a happy tone. I hear footsteps and then suddenly John is beside me on the floor, one leg down and one leg up with an arm resting atop his knee. "So, with that in mind," he continues, taking a pause and looking over at me for a few heartbeats, "I thought maybe we could go out somewhere." Ugh, he has on that gorgeous half smile again - GAH, stupid human emotions! "My friend Dave invited me over to his club, so if you're up for it maybe we could go there," he paused a moment, mulling over the words that he just previously spewed from his mouth. "Or unless you don't want to!...That is!" he adds hastily on, which makes it a little awkward for me because I realize he actually cares and I can feel my ears get hot and I know I am probably blushing.

"OH!" I gasp a little_ too_ exasperatedly. I immediately realize it sounds a bit overenthusiastic and shrink back a little from embarrassment. "I mean, uh, yeah, whatever you're up for, uh, I guess," I attempt to sound somewhat cool but just look like a total lame-ass. Whatever, I fucking give up.

"Alright!" John's pleased look jolts to something along the lines of elated. "I just need to take a shower, and get ready. What about you?" he asks and I shrug.

"I slept until two in the afternoon so I just took a shower at three; my hair's still a little damp, too," I say nonchalantly as I can. He simply nods before running upstairs.

I wait a minute, listening. Then there is a slight high-pitched noise running through the house along with the sound of a bathroom fan and running water. That's my cue. I bolt upstairs and go through my small stack of clothes in his bedroom. What the fuck am I supposed to wear? Is it like a dance club or just one of those VIP clubs people sit at a sectioned off circular booth sipping martinis and watch all the people dance sexily or make a complete idiot out of themselves? How am I supposed to know these stupid human things? Am I going to be dancing? I thought for a moment about wearing my favorite sweater - the cat sweater John picked out for me.

No, it just doesn't fit the atmosphere. Just..._Fuck_, why is this so hard?

I grumble under my breath before ripping off my lounge clothes and discarding them somewhere over the rainbow onto John's bedroom floor. I slip on just a regular, plain, small black tee and a pair of dark blue skinny jeans. I look fucking average but I don't care, they're comfy I suppose. Or at least, comfy for public wear and not crappy lounge clothes you would never leave the house with on. Yeah, that kind of comfy.

I go downstairs and pull on my red high top converse. Hopefully they're considered club appropriate, but fuck if I actually care if they are or not. Just as I am done with tying the laces on my shoes, John his now barreling down the steps. I whip around to see him standing with a glowing smile. Ugh, sometimes it seemed like John could just radiate fucking sunshine. I don't like it when it seems that way. He's too fucking happy it's embarrassing to be seen with him.

I study what John has picked for clothes. Something simple. But god I want to just run my fingers up his chest and feel the taut muscle on his arms - wait, what the fuck am I talking about? Ahem. _Anyways. _A black formfitting wife-beater tank adorns John's torso and the contrast of his shirt to skin tone makes him seem to glow in a smooth, silky milk white. His bottom half wears regular blue/green fade Levi's and now he's slipping on his really snazzy looking Toms. Wait, did I just say 'snazzy'? Ugh, I must be hanging out with this kid too much.

John looks down at me (seeing as he had a good half foot or so on me), "Ready to go?" he chirps delighted. I nod, remaining silent in fear of flipping the fuck out about his fucking perfection. He pauses a moment, his brows furrowing. "Hey uhm, I never really asked you before, but uh, how old are you...exactly?" he asks, a bit dumbfounded he hadn't asked before. I am also slightly dumbfounded at this fact. Hell, I didn't even know _John's _age!

I attempt to do the conversion math in my head of demon life measurement to earthling years. "Uhm, well in demon 'years' which are called sweeps, I'm 9 sweeps old." I watch closely as John furrows his brow, quite perplexed at such an odd term. I continue, "But I think that would be like, 19 and a half or something in human years." I say whilst nodding in affirmation like an imbecile.

John shrugs, which I take as a good sign because he is no longer tense. "I just turned 20 this past April. I was just wondering in case you were like super underage or something because sometimes we Dave and I drink at his club. I mean, he owns the club so he can sort of like bypass the law with club rule or something. That's how he explained it at least. Besides, teenagers drink anyways so why can't I when I've got less than a year until it's legal? Well, actually I started drinking when I was eighteen, but still. And it's not like I drink all the time, I mean! -" I cut him off by placing my hand over his mouth.

My brow twitches in agitation. "You were rambling..." I grumble and he simply nods with comprehension that it's time to shut up. He fixes the black framed wayfarers on his face before grabbing my hand and leading me out the door.

* * *

Karkat: lament.

With fucking pleasure. We've been here for ten minutes and there's something about it I don't like. Overall the scheme was pretty neat. It looked casino-based with black lights everywhere and red seats. I don't if it's the woman making out with each other while dancing up on small stages or the bunches of freaks practically drooling and worshipping the DJ apparently called "turntech Godhead", or something. It sounds fucking retarded and I haven't let go of the bottom hem of Johns tank top for pure fear of being drowned in a sea of weirdos.

Just because my kind is taboo and "evil" doesn't mean I like murder and freaks of nature. Actually, I like the exact opposite. I like activities like going to the beach on low tide and searching out crabs caught in tide pools or snuggling with kittens or watching a romcom while curling up on the couch. Not this weird...shit. Fuck, I don't even know what to call it because I just have no fucking idea what is going on. But I must say that the beats are at least somewhat good coming from this DJ guy called "turntech Godhead" or whatever.

All the while I'm paying attention to this endless sea of rampant shit, John has dragged me somewhere and I only realize when we disappear behind a wall and I can no longer see horny party goers and drunken twenty or so year olds grinding up against each other. I shake my head to rid of some of the rather dirty images I have just witnessed. John has also somehow maneuvered so that he is gently grasping my wrist and leading the way.

We end up in some larger, more open room after walking up a small flight of stairs with a window to see what is going on down below on the dance floor. It's actually sort of lewd to think of someone _enjoying_ the view form up here. And there is the DJ in a fucking chair, his arms slung on either side of the back and his legs crossed. John seems joyous to see him and I realize that this is his friend Dave. I don't really pay attention to their conversation. I mean, I hear my name a few times but that's about it. One thing I'm picking up on though is the fact that Dave seems a bit irritated for some reason and I sort of feel like it's being pointed directly at me.

John mentions going to go get a few drinks and he tells me to wait here. I'm a little reluctant at first, but I comply to his wishes nevertheless. When John is out of site completely I turn to Dave and he's giving me a glare searing with hatred so hot I feel like it will burn a hole right through me. One blink he's perched in his fancy chair, the next he's poking a finger into my chest aggressively. I look at him, mouth slightly ajar from astonishment at such an aggressive move, especially because I haven't exactly done anything deserving of such treatment...yet.

"Look, John is my best friend, okay? And I don't want any fucking heroin addicted street rag ruining his fucking happiness, got it?" he snaps with a slight edge to his voice. Uh, the fuck? First of all, I want to give this asshole a piece of my mind, second of all, I don't do drugs and I'm not a fucking street rag whatever the hell that is. Lastly, I don't think I'm actually capable of hurting John's feelings. Not because he's all big or brave and whatever the fuck else, but because I am actually incapable of saying something deliberately spiteful to him. I've tried a bunch of times, believe me, but every single time I freeze up and words don't come out and my limbs all feel like fucking jelly and it's some seriously weird shit.

I want to say all of this to Dave, to give him a piece of my fucking mind, but I feel vulnerable in this human suit. I am literally powerless to say what I wish because this fucking body denies it and instead I let out a small squeak or yip and swallow hard. Dave sneers, "Good, now you know your fucking place, runt. And don't even think your special because John is just a nice person and if he saw someone in your position he would have done what he's doing for them, too. You aren't fucking special. I don't even fucking know how he sleeps at night knowing some _thing _like you is sleeping around his apartment. I'd be too fucking scared that you would murder me or some shit. You nothing but a burdening piece of trash. Nobody wants you or will ever want you, not even John," the Dave guy hisses.

I don't know why, but there is an ache in my chest as the thoughts of John looking down at me in disgust fills every corner of my mind. Tears start to well in my swore human eyes and I just want to find a corner away form all the noise and huddle there to get rid of this stupid feeling. I struggle to keep them from spilling over as I watch Dave take his shades off and toss them on one of the small couches and he turns around and kicks the glass coffee table completely over.

I jump slightly back at the loud shattering noise and he turns, a smug expression on his face as he purposefully buckles his knees and falls back against the shattered glass, gutting his hands as he falls. At that moment, John walks into the larger room with a few drinks in hand. His eyes widen a little at the scene and I realize too that it looks like I pushed Dave into the coffee table. "Karkat?" he asks, hurt evident in his voice. It's then that I can't fucking take it anymore.

Tears pool over in my eyes and I run past John and downstairs and out through the closest door that led to an alleyway. When I get out through the door, a cool summer breeze hits me and I shiver slightly. Then again, it could also be from the violent shaking wracking my body at the moment along with pitiful sobs. I swear that already I could fill a large container the size of a trashcan with tears. I sniff a little before, rubbing my eyes. And then I register another figure in the alleyway with me. I look over quickly to my right to see a puff of smoke being blown.

There he is.

No one other than my moirail (the demon term), i.e., my best friend. Where exactly was he during my rescue? I'm a bit pissed at the thought but too sad to do anything about it.

"Funny we should meet up here, huh?" he asks in a gravelly yet deep and smooth voice. His very speech is a contradiction. "Must be motherfuckin' miracles, bro."

I am slightly comforted by the fact that he hasn't changed or he isn't being awkward even though what has happened. "Hi Gamzee," I say weakly, still hiccuping from the sobs.

He inhales the bundle of what seems to be marijuana and then blows it out through his nose. "Hey Karbro," he returns the somewhat proper greeting with a strange warmth in his voice. "I've been trying to calm them motherfuckin' ancestors down, brother," he began in a rather lethargic drawl. "Been motherfuckin' holdin' 'em back as best I can. Their motherfucking attitudes are kinda' harsh, yeah? But I haven't stopped trying since last month when those motherfuckers got you." He's referring to the humans. I can hear his voice strain and it only makes the ache in my chest grow bigger.

"They might even motherfuckin' change their motherfuckin' minds," he continued slowly, lazily. "Just don't do anything motherfucking stupid, alright Karbro?" he asks and I simply nod.

"Thanks Gamz," I struggle to say and he simply paps my head lightly before disappearing into the darkness, the shadows swallowing him up and I can feel when his presence is gone. He's probably returned to fucking calm the ancestors down. And that's when it starts to all come out again.

I sob loudly and slide against the brick of the building beside the door, hugging my knees and burying my face in the crook of my elbow. Tears just seem to keep flowing from these stupid human tear ducts and I don't try and stop them. I don't even stop when I hear the back door open again and some sit beside me. I look up and over to the figure sitting beside me on my left. It's John and he looks worried. "Dave can get really jealous," he says but it doesn't stop my violent shaking. "I know you didn't do anything." Still nothing.

John finally wraps his arms around me and begins shooshing me, consoling me as best he can. He keeps telling my it will be alright and that there's no need to be upset but it only makes mores tears come and I bury my face in the crook of his neck. John simply holds me and strokes my hair at this, now understanding that I just need to let it all out: everything. Being stuck in this stupid human body, the fact that I may be killed for being caught by fucking humans by the ancestors , the fact that I can't go home because of it, and also that I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place in almost any situation that arises because I'm just such a fuck up.

When I finally simmer down from my bout of crying, John maneuvers to grab the bottles he brought out with him. He hands me something that looks like straight liquor and mentions something about it helping my sleep and so I take a swig. I immediately regret it after I swallow. It burns my throat and eyes and nose. But then, then I feel suddenly looser, more relaxed. I take another large sip of the drink and it doesn't seem so bad. In the corner of my eye I can see John doing the same. I don't stop until the bottle is gone and I stare at it, my eyes glazed over. My thoughts become a little fuzzy and I don't really want to think any more but I feel a whole lot better for some reason.

I can feel John stroke my hair before he leans a gentle kiss on the side of my face, alcohol on his breath.

I grumble. "I wanna go home," I say in a whisper on for his ears and he nods his head.

"Alright, Princess," he says and I could swear his words were slurred a little. Then he picks me up bridal style and I am frankly too shit-faced to care or complain and the last thing I hear before I close my tired eyes is him calling for a cab.


End file.
